"Hey, Amy?" Emma asked nervously, slowly backing away from the oven, hands held up in surrender. "Uhhh... is the oven supposed to be... shaking? Like... like a washing machine?"
Amy, who was scrolling on her phone, looked up in alarm. "Huh?!"
Emma gulped. "...This is why we don't bake without Mia and Annie."
"Why?"
"Because I don't know what to do."
"...Neither do I."
The oven let out a low, ominous whummm as it rattled against the wall like it was about to launch into orbit.
Amy's eyes widened. "Okay. Okayokayokay. Stay calm. How bad is it?"
Emma pointed. "The cupcake tray just did a somersault."
Amy dropped her phone. "OKAY THAT'S BAD."
They both dove behind the kitchen island just as the oven gave a violent THUNK, followed by an eerie puff of greenish smoke from the vents.
"...Did we just summon something?" Emma whispered.
Amy peeked over the counter like she was watching a horror movie. "If a demon made of frosting walks out of that thing, I'm blaming you."
"I was just following the instructions!"
"You drew the recipe in crayon!"
Emma winced. "In my defense, it was a vibe."
POOF!
The oven burst open, a cloud of sparkly flour dust filling the room. From inside the metal chamber... floated a single, perfectly round cupcake. Glowing. Floating. Spinning slowly like it was in a sacred bakery shrine.
Emma blinked. "...Is it supposed to do that?"
Amy: "...I don't think physics allows that."
The cupcake stopped spinning mid-air. Then it popped like a soap bubble—sending a glittery poof across the kitchen and coating everything, and everyone, in shimmery pink dust.
Emma coughed, trying not to breathe in sugar particles. "...So. Do we still bring this to the bake sale?"
Amy squinted at the list stuck to the fridge. "We were supposed to make normal chocolate chip cookies."
They both slowly turned to look at the counter. The cookie dough was still untouched in the bowl.
Emma looked back at the oven, which was now eerily quiet and slightly glowing pink. "We... baked the wrong bowl, didn't we."
Amy nodded slowly. "...Yup."
From the other room (where he was filing his nails), Blackie's voice rang out, dry and unimpressed as always. "I don't know what you two did, but if the house explodes, I'm suing."
Emma groaned and buried her face in her hands. "We need Mia and Annie."
Amy sighed. "Yeah. I'll text them. Again."
The oven gave one final twitch.
"Text them fast," Emma added.
